Chapter 49 - Brother

Rollie always knew he played the fool to a degree. Heck, he chose that life. It disarmed people and made it easier on himself when women inevitably rejected him due to his tendency to grow bored with them. But his brother's chaotic disaster of a wedding knocked the fool right out of him.

Ma had fainted. Pops was useless, as usual. Richie was inconsolably paralyzed with disbelief. Lupe was half-dead and fully roasted. The only person with a useful thought left was Lupe's friend Mimi, who had peppered the medics with questions until they gave her a rude brush-off.

Rollie had been trying to console his disoriented mother when Mimi approached him. "Listen up here, you jackanape. You're the only one left who's shooting straight. No one at the Medical Pavilion is going to let Lupe's business partner call the shots for her. But they just might let you do it. Your brother's in some hot water and she's in a bad way. You're her brother-in-law for all intents and purposes and according to Biblical precedent you've got a responsibility to care for her."

Rollie ran his hand through his dark blond hair and tried to think. He was struggling to get his bearings and only had confusion at her statement. "What's the Bible got to do with any of this horse hockey?"

Mimi yanked him by his shoulders closer to him. "Listen to me. People go missing in this town. Especially after checking into the Medical Pavilion. You get down there and you watch her like a hawk, you hear? I'm sure they can pump her up with ADAM and get her up and on her feet within a week, but I'm also equally sure they can declare her dead on arrival and use her corpse as a testing ground for their unholy sciences. You make sure she makes it long enough to wake up, understand?" All of this was conveyed in a whisper as the medics bundled Lupe onto a stretcher.

Rollie exhaled. Richie would be tops at this if he was in his right mind. However, he was still rooted to the spot in frozen terror. Poor Richie, he sure gets some real tough breaks. "Yeah, I get the picture. I don't know exactly what it is you want me to do-"

"Your family is swimming in dough, ain't they? Rich people don't go missing. You get down there in your fancy duds you got on and make it clear she's with you!"

"What about my Ma?" Rollie gave a glance over his shoulder. His mother delicately was trying to fetch her compact from her purse. "She ain't looking too hot either, if you'll pardon the pun."

"I will not pardon the pun," Mimi hissed at him angrily. "Your mother isn't the one in danger. No one is going to spirit her away. You plant yourself outside Lupe's room until either she's back in action or your dear brother is, understood?"

There was crude but forceful authority in Mimi's order. Not that Rollie disagreed with her to begin with. "I'll be there. And I'm expecting you to bring a hot thermos of soup and a cold bottle of beer for my troubles."

"Deal."

Richard could barely explain himself when the security agents showed up. Just nodding and shaking his head and gesturing at Robert's body. The security agents questioned him as well. He related the story honestly. When asked what was the source of the fire's ignition, all Rollie could do was shrug. He hadn't seen anything unusual. A candle fell on her, and combined with too much hairspray or synthetic fibers on her dress and poof, goodnight Irene.

I wonder where the head went, Rollie wondered idly as he hastened past the corpse on his way to the Medical Pavilion. A crowd had gathered outside and he tried to slip past them as innocuously as possible. It was a short bathysphere ride to the Medical Pavilion; it took twice as long for him to figure out where Lupe had been sent.

"I'm looking for my sister-in-law," Rollie fudged the truth a little for twelfth or so time at a reception desk. "Lupe Cer-Stone, Lupe Stone," he repeated. "She got badly burnt up today and her husband is also, um, also incapacitated. Richard Stone, that's her husband. I'm his brother."

The receptionist took out a clipboard and leafed through some loose pages. "I got a female with third-degree and fourth-degree burns over…oh dear. A hundred percent of her body." The receptionist frowned. "Goodness."

Rollie frowned as well. He was no medical man but that didn't sound good. "Is that real bad?"

The receptionist nodded. "You'd best talk to a doctor. What happened to her husband?"

"He's uh, not taking this well. Lupe doesn't have her kin down here, so I'm the closest thing she's got. Who do I talk to?"

"You'll need to speak to…" the receptionist consulted a schedule pinned to the wall. "Doctor Seymour, she's the attending physician on shift. Down the hall here, keep going until you reach the nurse's station. She came in not too long ago, so you'll probably need to wait until they've stabilized her."

A nurse rushed past him with her arms full of rolls of gauze as he walked to the nurse's station. She dashed into the swinging double doors that were stenciled with "EMERGENCY WARD". As the doors swung open he heard wailing cries of agony and a shouted order to replace the IV immediately.

Rollie took a seat in a rattan chair next to the station. Whatever they were doing in there he'd have to wait. He lit a cigarette and sighed.

Unlike his brother, Rollie hadn't been to war. He had an exemption from the draft board as he was vital to wartime production of small engines. Rollie hadn't personally seen an injury worse than a bloody nose. Poor Lupe, he thought nervously as he took a drag. She was a sweet gal and she certainly didn't deserve this.

Rollie tried not to, but he could hear low, almost imperceptible moans from the emergency ward. He was counting his lucky stars that he wasn't in there with her. He'd have no clue what to say to her. Thankfully she's Richie's problem and hopefully they'll have her in the land of pink elephants until he can comfort her.

The minutes tautly ticked by as he waited to speak to Doctor Seymour. Finally a woman with stress lines well etched on her face exited the emergency ward and Rollie leapt to his feet. "Doctor Seymour?"

She nodded and took off her gloves, which churned Rollie's stomach when he saw they were stained with blood. "Are you a family member of the burned woman?"

"Yes," Rollie answered without hesitation. "How's she doing?"

"On one hand she has traumatic burn injuries. On the other, I've had quite a bit of experience with plasmid burns-"

"Plasmid?!" It clicked for Rollie. Dorothy, that witch.

"Every other day for the past year I've had some kind of plasmid injury or the other," Doctor Seymour continued. "With a combination of traditional treatment and ADAM injections she has a pretty decent chance of survival. Not a hundred percent, but better than even odds."

"But ADAM cured my brother completely of his bum leg," Rollie suddenly realized. "Can't you just give her a highball glass full of it?"

Doctor Seymour shook her head. "Too much ADAM at once has a destabilizing effect on a patient. Physically and mentally. And it's not much to be too much. Over time I expect her to make a full recovery, but…that's if she makes it through the next forty-eight hours."

Rollie pressed his lips together in thought. "Look, I think I know the person who set Lupe on fire and I highly suspect that she'd be back if she thinks she hasn't finished the job. Is there a security detail here I can speak with?"

"I'd imagine, you'll have to ask around."

Richie will want a number. He finds comfort in them. "What are the odds she'll make it, do you reckon?"

"I'm reluctant to give you an estimate," she replied. "Likely. Not certain."

I'll give Richie my own number then. "Is she…she is in a lot of pain, isn't she?"

"Yes. She's getting a course of powerful sedatives and morphine. There's only so much that can do, however. Once she is transferred to a critical care room you can visit her. If you'll excuse me I have other patients to attend to. Don't worry though, she's currently receiving treatment by the emergency nurses."

Doctor Seymour walked off to her next patient while Rollie inwardly squirmed at the idea of having to sit by the grievously injured Lupe's bedside. When I told Richie I'd watch out for her I thought it meant maybe paying her rent and making sure she had food in her belly, not this. But by gum I suppose I'm going to have to suck it up.

Rollie made a few telephone calls while they were working on Lupe. Firstly he called Anthony Collins, who had not yet been alerted to the fact that Richie needed legal aid, again, and set him on the case. Secondly, he called his parent's home and was informed by the housekeeper that they had not yet returned from the wedding. Rollie left a message as to his whereabouts. Thirdly he also telephoned his own housekeeper, Helga, and clued her into the situation as well. He had hired her several months ago and was relying on her to more or less run his life, but as she was an old and sour woman he wasn't tempted at all the way Richard had been.

I need to speak to the security desk here, make sure they got an eye out for Dorothy, and maybe keep the other eye on Lupe's room, he planned as he hung up the telephone. And make sure the receptionist has her name recorded. Harder to make someone with a name and family disappear.

Rollie lingered outside Lupe's recovery room once done. I guess I'd better get in there. Maybe Ma will be up on her feet soon and get in there and do some Ma stuff. He cautiously pushed the door open. It was a windowless room and bright compared to the hallways. He blinked a few times and was surprised to see a thick cotton tent-like structure covering the bed. It was a relief that he wouldn't have to gaze upon her.

"Hey," he softly addressed the tent. "You um, you feeling any better?"

There was no reply. Were it not for the beeping of the heart monitor and the gentle whooshing of the respiration he couldn't be sure she was there. Rollie scooted a chair against the wall, as far as he could away from the bed but still in the room.

I should have brought a magazine. He was tempted to go scrounge one up, but he had been away for a long time on the telephone already and Mimi's warning still bounced around in his head. As uncomfortable as he was he certainly didn't want Lupe to get pulled into some backroom and sold off for parts or whatever it was Mimi worried about.

Rollie fidgeted with his silver lighter. He tried to ignore the grievously wounded person four feet in front of him by trying to think about some possible slogans for their new line of revolvers, but it proved a challenge. Made an enemy? Don't let them get the drop on you! That's actually pretty good, he conceded and wrote it down in the notebook he habitually carried.

He doodled mindlessly after that until Mimi finally arrived several hours later.

"Lord of mercy," she sadly said and sat down next to Rollie. She had a basket with the promised soup and bread. "She's alive at least. What'd the doctor say?"

Rollie brought her up to speed. "Man oh man I hope he pulls through," he added after relaying the doctor's conversation.

Mimi thrust the basket at him. "I can't tell you how many times I've been here. So many women beat black and blue or pushed down stairs or botched abortions or bad hooch." She exhaled, clearly exasperated. "The story is different each time, but it's always got the same beginning."

Rollie unscrewed the thermos and sniffed the garlicky-smelling soup. "What's that?"

"A man."

"Hey!" Rollie exclaimed, insulted at her insinuation. "My brother sure as sunshine didn't do this! His battle-axe former wife did!"

"And who drove her to it, huh?" Mimi scoffed at him. "You keep your mistress in a house, you stay the night with her, you take her to jazz clubs and martini bars on the other side of the tracks. You don't parade around with her, you don't publicly propose to her, and you certainly don't turn your wife out onto the street because you want to start over. Not here."

Rollie was flustered by this accusation. "A man's got a right to have a happy life," he stuttered out.

"At the price of someone else's livelihood? Marriage is one of the building blocks of society. Your brother should have had the good sense to at least pretend to care. Discretion is the better part of valor. It doesn't matter if he was blinded by love or foolishness or awkwardness. He should have known what was gonna happen."

Rollie was speechless. "Richie….he's a good egg, he didn't…"

Mimi gestured to the tented bed. "It doesn't matter what's intended. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions."

Rollie was indignant, but not so indignant that he was willing to skip his supper. He ate in silence while Mimi stared at the tent. "Thanks for the soup, but I'll take it without your salty words next time."

Mimi bitterly chortled. "Have better sense than your brother with women and maybe you'll save your true love a trip to the hospital."

Rollie stood up. "I need to stretch my legs," he curtly informed her. "You gonna sit with her?"

Mimi nodded. "Take all the time you need."

The nerve of that woman, Rollie sullenly thought as he went back to the telephone booth. He refused to give even a pennyweight to her allegations that Richie was somehow in the wrong. The large clock next to the telephone booth showed nearly eight o'clock in the evening, meaning that he had been here for nearly six hours.

Anthony better have made some kinda progress, he thought as he dialed his brother's lawyer's number. Anthony had made no progress, at least none that would get Richie out of the cooler post-haste. There was a hearing tomorrow afternoon, but no chance of bail until after the hearing.

"Hey Pops," Rollie greeted his father after the housekeeper called him to the telephone. "How's Ma?"

"Upset. They checked her out and sent her home and gave her a whole bottle of good-night pills. Took one and fell asleep as soon as we got back." His father sounded extremely irritated by this whole situation. "Did Richard's girlfriend die? Sure looked like she did."

"Nah, and the doc's giving her pretty good odds to survive."

"Huh. Well that ought to please your brother."

Rollie scrunched up his face. "Well it should please you too."

"Ach," his father dismissed, his irritation boiling over. "They upset the apple cart, her and Richard. Put her own dang self in harm's way. Society has rules, Rollie, and when they get ignored things like this happen."

Rollie supposed he should have expected this from his father, but he was still disgusted. "You're blaming her for this?"

"Her and your brother equally have their part in this."

"You can't be serious! You know he tried to give Dorothy a reasonable alimony."

"He had no just cause to leave his wife," his father continued. "That's the problem with your generation, you get banged up in one war and you think the whole world revolves around you!"

Rollie hung up the handset, unwilling to hear his brother maligned anymore. No wonder Richie quit. Rollie sighed and rubbed his eyes. Richie's probably blaming himself too. I'd better go talk to him, or at least try. Back to Fort Frolic!

Rollie couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to be burned alive on the trip to the security station where Richard was being held. He flipped open his lighter and held his hand over the flame for a half-second before yanking it away in pain. I couldn't bear it! No one deserves this! Unlike Richard, Rollie liked living in Rapture for the better part, but danged if he would admit it was a bright idea to sell incineration in a bottle.

"I need to visit my brother, Richard Stone, he's locked up back there," Rollie introduced himself to the sergeant or lieutenant or however they liked to style themselves.

"No visitors," he answered without looking up from his newspaper.

Rollie expected this and pulled out his wallet. "Say when," he drolly informed him as he started dropping ten dollar bills on the desk.

"Keep going."

Greedy pig, ain't cha? Rollie soon emptied out his wallet, and only when he stopped did Lt. Sergeant look up. "I suppose. You got five minutes," he said in a bored voice while counting the bills. "He's in the back cell. And when I say five minutes, I mean five minutes."

"I'd think I bought a little more time than that," Rollie sniffed, but was secretly thankful there was a hard limit on his visit. He didn't know what state Richard would be in and the less time he was there, the easier it was on him.

"Get going," Lt. Sergeant ordered and went back to his newspaper.

Rollie had never been in a police station before and was fascinated by the concept, but it wasn't as interesting as he thought. Just an ordinary corridor with ordinary doors – no hookers or thugs loitering around. The first cell was empty, but Rollie was shocked to see Dorothy in the next one, either passed out or heavily sleeping on the bare floor. Once he processed who it was, he felt relief. At least I don't got to worry about her showing up at the hospital.

There were two more empty cells before he got to Richard. Unlike Dorothy, he was neither passed out nor on the floor, but sitting cross-legged on the rickety cot. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot and he looked like he'd been awake for several days straight. He still wore his suit, which was ripped to shreds on the chest, and the red rose boutonniere was still pinned on.

"Hey," Rollie called to him. "I've got some good…good-ish news for you!"

Richard tilted his head up to face Rollie but otherwise remained motionless.

"Lupe's still alive," or was half an hour ago at least, Rollie finished in his head.

This seemed to rejuvenate him. "Really?" Richard stood up and walked to the bars.

Rollie nodded. "No fooling. I ain't gonna fib, she's in bad shape, but the doctor has seen to her and she's taken care of. She's out like a light, I was sitting with her for a while. Lots of morphine and tranqs. The doc, she knows what she's doing. Says Lupe has a good shot at making a recovery." Rollie carefully chose his words to avoid saying death or ADAM

Richard eyed him suspiciously, sensing that he was keeping something from him. "How good of a chance? How can she have a chance? I saw her, I saw…" he pressed his lips together. "I seen what happens when people burn like that," he finished in a low voice.

"Well, the doc told me that she's seen plasmid attacks before, and that they give them some ADAM, just a little bit, just enough to help," Rollie tried to gently explain, knowing Richie's feelings on ADAM.

But Richie didn't seem to care. "Alright, alright," he repeated to himself, clearly working it out in his head. "And the blood chocolate…" he trailed off with this inscrutable comment. "How good of a chance?"

"Seventy-five, eighty percent," Rollie half-lied. Those were better than even odds but not overly optimistic.

Richie shook his head. "No, not good enough."

Rollie didn't know exactly what to say to that. "I uh, I don't know what we can do to up those odds."

Richie shook his head again. "I have to get out of here. I tried bending the bars but I'm not that strong. But then I realized that's foolish, that I can't just walk out of here and walk away from problems."

Rollie noticed that the bars were indeed slightly askew. "Oh," he suddenly recalled. "You know Dorothy did this, right?"

"Yes, I saw her." Richard's voice turned to granite.

"They arrested her, apparently, she's in a cell not twenty feet from here, passed out. So you don't gotta worry about her now."

"I know. I heard them bring her in. She was yelling about having the last laugh or something like that." Whatever vigor that was one his face due to the news about Lupe was totally gone.

"Richie, you um, you can't blame yourself for this," Rollie said in a low voice, trying to impart brotherly affection but unsure as to if it would reach him. "You tried to give Dorothy a way out. It would have been crueler to stay married to her, the way you two carried on, even before Lupe came into the picture. Dorothy's a bad egg."

"I should have known what she'd do," he lamented. "Dorothy was going off the rails. I knew it. I saw it happen. But I didn't care. I didn't think it was my problem anymore."

"What could you have done, huh?"

"It's more what could I have not done?" Richard sighed and was silent for a moment. "How's mom doing?"

"Fine, just had a shock I guess, doctors cleared her and sent her home."

"Is…is Lupe in a lot of pain do you suppose?"

"Hopefully she isn't feeling much, they've got her under." He didn't mention the gut-wrenching moans he had heard coming from the emergency ward.

"Seventy-five percent," he whispered to himself and looked like he was going to start crying again.

"Eighty," Rollie stressed. "You wouldn't bet against something that has eighty percent odds, huh?"

"It's not wise to gamble," he muttered. "But I did anyway."

Rollie offered his cigarette case and lighter through the bars. "Here. You look like you could use a smoke or ten. Don't make yourself sick with worry. Chances are everything will be back to normal before you know it." There's a fairly healthy chance you'll be burying your bride too, but let's not dwell on that.

Richard's face seemed to reflect Rollie's inner thoughts. He limply took the cigarettes but didn't open the case. He said nothing, clearly wrapped up in his own thoughts.

"Listen, I don't have much time. After your hearing tomorrow I'm sure they'll let you go and you hoof it to First Response Care at the Medical Center, all right? That's where she is, and the doc said the first two days are the roughest. So get some rest and your mind together and be ready for tomorrow."

"Yeah," Richard tepidly agreed. "I'd better go, the bribe I paid to get here didn't get me much time. You want me to come to your hearing tomorrow or you want me to keep Lupe company at the hospital?"

"Keep her company," he instantly replied.

"You got it. Good luck tomorrow," Rollie bade his brother and left him to his miserable thoughts.